Wizards are Supernatural Creatures
by hiddenwriter691
Summary: Supernatural Harry Potter Crossover. Sam and Dean follow a seemingly unsolvable case...all the way to the United Kingdom! Will they be able to work with their prey: some very supernatural wizards?


A/N: This is a crossover between Harry Potter and Supernatural, but it will start out JUST Supernatural. But HP will be in there eventually.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural (CW does) or Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling)

Chapter 1- Dead

Bounce…bounce…bounce…_miss_. Dean threw his paddleball onto the table in front of him in frustration.

"Honestly, Dean, pick up a book or something."

Dean glared at his brother.

"Shut up, bookworm."

Sam scoffed.

"At least one of us will do research _before_ we go and hunt all of these demons. I'm not one to touch the flames to see if their hot. I'd rather know before hand."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Even two year olds know not to touch fire, Sam."

"I was making an analogy," Sam said, through gritted teeth.

"Right," Dean said, rolling his eyes again.

He randomly grabbed a book. _Horrible Hauntings._ They got it from this old bookstore down the road. It had a pentagram on it, so of course Sam grabbed it.

"So," Dean drew out the word while flipping through the brittle pages, "What exactly am I looking for?"

Sam looked at his brother unbelievingly but didn't pester Dean.

"Well, you know that old woman that we thought was possessed?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, her eyes glowed red. I didn't exactly think that was natural."

Sam nodded.

"She was found dead in her house two days ago," Sam divulged. Dean sat up straighter. "The official cause of death was unknown. She seemed to have just…died. I mean, the woman was old, but there would have been a cause of death."

Dean nodded. "So maybe it was a possession gone bad? Demon left the body which killed her…Like that blonde bitch?"

"Sort of," Sam said, "but in that case, the person possessed died of heart failure. She had a heart attack during the exorcism. There isn't any evidence of exorcism on the scene: candles, chalk marks, and such. That doesn't mean the demon didn't leave…but…still…there's something _wrong_ about this murder."

Dean nodded. He shook the book in his hands. "What am I looking for then?"

"Ways to die, seemingly without cause."

Dean opened the book, but Sam interrupted him.

"Before you start, listen to this obituary:

_AMY BENSON, 78, passed away Thursday,_

_April 28, 1997 in her home. She was born _

_November 12, 1926 in Hertfordshire, England to_

_Jenny Benson. She was raised in an orphanage and_

_made lifelong friends at this place she called home. She _

_is survived by her two best friends: Dennis Bishop _

_and Billy Stubbs. Both of whom were residents at the orphanage_

_in which she was raised_.

"Of course, it tells where her funeral will be. But…what do you find odd about this obituary?" Sam asked, staring intently at his laptop.

"No family?" Dean asked, scratching his head.

"Yeah. What good does a demon do in a lonely lady's home? She probably never leaves the house."

"Maybe it isn't a possession then, Dean. I don't know right now." Sam kept reading his laptop. "Just get back to that book."

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Sam and Dean walked on a sidewalk. They were in a very…traditional neighborhood. All the houses were similar in size, most with perfect lawns, many with delicately done shrubbery and flowerbeds.

"Holy Hell," Dean whispered, "Where are we?" He was looking at a lawn flamingo behind a white picket fence.

"We are in the suburbs. More importantly, the suburbs where Amy Benson lived."

"How old was she, again?" Dean asked, looking at his surroundings with discomfort.

"Seventy-eight."

"Okay, maybe I'm losing my edge but why would a demon _want_ to inhabit a soggy old woman," Dean said, frowning.

Sam had stopped. Dean followed his eyes to a house surrounded by POLICE LINE tape. Instead of sneaking into the house, the two brothers went right, to the house's neighbor.

Sam had found that the writer of Miss Benson's obituary lived next to her. Obviously, the author must know her well, to have written her farewell words.

They walked up a well tamed and groomed yard on a bleached white sidewalk. Sam saw Dean scuff a little dirt onto the cleanliness, just to be difficult. They walked up to the dark wooden door. Sam knocked lightly and rang the doorbell.

It took a few moments. But soon, a woman came to the door. The brothers had both expected an older woman, a pier of the late Amy Benson. But this woman was probably thirty to forty. She looked pleasant enough and had a motherly look about her.

"What can I do for you boys?" She asked, looking back and forth between them.

Sam was always best at feigning sorrow. "Mrs. Wilson, we're here about Miss Benson. She was our Great Aunt. We wanted to thank the woman who wrote her obituary. It was fitting…good for her. You see, we were close. She was like another grandmother," Sam said, looking rather solemn.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Then why have I never seen you around here?"

"We live up north," Sam said, without a beat. "We write…I mean…_wrote _her a lot. We flew her up when we could, but we aren't exactly overflowing with money and she very well couldn't drive."

Dean would have laughed at Sam if it wouldn't blow their cover completely. Sam actually looked like he was going to cry.

"What about your accents?" The woman asked, referencing Miss Benson's British accent, and their lack thereof.

"Her father…the one that left her mother…came to the States before she was born. He had a son here who had a daughter, our mother. She finally found her blood family and she's been close with us ever since."

The author's expression was unreadable. "Did he regret it?" She asked, her voice bitter.

"Who?" Sam asked, warily, afraid they had blown their cover.

"Your great grandfather. Did he regret leaving his daughter in some godforsaken orphanage in England?" She asked.

Both brothers had realized that it probably wasn't been the best idea to use her abandoning father as their blood relation. But they also realized, it would be most credible of anything. It helped that her father was long dead as well.

"In his later years, I believe he did. But you must understand, he was young…very young when Great Aunt Amy was born. He was stupid and youthful. You see, Mrs. Wilson, we only wanted to talk to you about your own view on _why_ she died," Dean said, steering the conversation away from the brothers.

They both knew this was probably some of the best information they could put forward, since the only _legal_ way they could know was if they were family or close friends. But of course, Sam had easily broken into police records.

Finally, a deep sadness crossed the woman's eyes. "Come in boys." She let them into her house. "Well, you know my name from the obituary. What're your names?"

"I'm Dean. Dean Hughes. And this is my brother Sam Hughes."

She nodded, while leading them into the living room. "I would've added you to the obituary. But I didn't know about you. And I would've mentioned your relative…I don't know exactly how she's related. Bella? But I didn't really know her last name or her connection."

Dean and Sam exchanged a meaningful glance. "Bella? What brought her around here?" Dean asked, nonchalant.

"Visiting Amy. She's a rather frazzled woman, no offense to your family."

"Well, you know, that's Bella. Haven't seen her for a while. You know, since we were kids. We don't really know her all that well," Sam said.

The woman nodded. "That happens. Especially when you live in different countries."

Sam and Dean shared a look before continuing their interrogation.


End file.
